When it comes to chores around the house, my husband and I are pretty good at sharing the domestic responsibilities. One of the many things I love about my husband is that he has no problem picking up a scrub brush and cleaning the bathroom toilet or clearing the table and washing the dirty dishes after dinner. Prior to getting married, one of the things that attracted me to him was the fact that he could cook. On our second official date, my husband came over to my house and made a homemade pizza for us. If that wasn't wonderful enough, it was that night when I discovered that he liked jalapenos on his pizza too. True love!
Taking out the trash is another domestic duty that we share. But on one particular day not too long into our marriage, I seriously considered changing this shared responsibility and strictly designating it a “For Husbands Only” task.
It all started one Saturday afternoon. My husband had just stretched out on the couch, ready to watch his beloved Georgia Bulldog football team hopefully defeat whatever rival they were playing. I decided to take the kitchen trash out to one of the two big trash cans we keep out in our carport. Due to limited space, we keep one trash can on the left side of the carport and one trash can on the right side. I made my way over to the can on the right side and started to lift the lid. As soon as I did, my eye caught sight of something moving between the container and the carport wall.
“Eek!” A black snake about 3 feet long slithered quickly from behind the trash can to behind my husband's work bench. I dropped the lid and with my trash bag still securely clutched in my hand I ran as fast as I could back up the carport stairs and into the safety of my house. I dropped my trash bag and attempted to explain to my husband. “Eww!” was all I could manage while grimacing and waving my hands frantically.
“What's wrong?” he asked, taking his eyes off the game.
“A snake...there's a snake in the garage!”
Putting down the TV remote, my husband jumps into action. Ready to save his damsel in distress.
Out he went. Several minutes later, my hero returns. The slithering creature was gone and I could safely continue my domestic chore of taking out the trash.
I picked up my kitchen trash bag again and made my way out to the carport, opting to take my trash to the trash can on left side of the carport instead. The lid on this trash container was not laying on top of the can but was resting on the ground next to the can. We must not have fastened it securely the last time we opened it. The trash bag that usually lines the container had also fallen into the can. I reached down into the container to retrieve the bag. My hand grabbed onto a portion of the bag at the same moment that my eyes caught sight of a pair of big round eyes staring back at me from the bottom of the container.
“Eek!” I released my grip on the bag and frantically retraced my steps back to the house. Even though I had only caught a brief glimpse of the thing that was lurking at the bottom of my trash can, those beady eyes and that pointy nose could only belong to one creature...a possum.
Like a song on my IPod stuck on replay mode, I ran back into the house and dropped my kitchen trash bag. The same scene as before begins to unfold as I explain to my husband what just happened on my most recent trip to the carport.
“A possum! There's a possum in our trash can!”
And so, once again, my hero puts down the TV remote.
Moments later he returns. I hand him the kitchen trash bag (the one that I've been holding onto so long that it could now be considered a new fashion accessory) and he takes it out to the carport for me.
Trash duty is done for the day.
Like I said, we like to share domestic responsibilities.
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